Bus of the Dead (2012)

This dream (omen) I just had the other evening.

The dream started with me standing on a major road in the city near where I grew up. I was confronted by as odd as it seems, Bobcat Goldthwait, (yes, that goofy socially odd comedian from the 1980's) he had a small dog and a weird instrument. He started performing a really stupid comedy act on the roadside for me. Bobcat asked me, "Is this funny?" I said, "No." He asked what I was waiting for. I responded, "The bus". Seconds later, standing next to me was an old friend of my fathers, Rick. Rick softly said, "Boy, Bobcat really sucks at this." I commented, "He is trying at least and he is a nice guy." Rick responded with, "Being nice and trying doesn't always help."

I ran across the street as the bus was due to be there shortly. While standing at the bus stop I was joined by a pressman, Gil, that used to work for my father's small printing company in the 1980's-90's. Gil asked how I was doing and we exchanged greetings. An old man approached us (I cannot remember his description) and he asked if we knew where to buy a xylophone (weird I know). I told him to ask Bobcat across the street and laughed.

The bus pulled up. It was an old style mass transit bus like the ones from the 1950's. I jumped on and the bus was full so I sat in the last remaining seat at the front of the bus. The seat was one of those that face sideways, so you are looking across the bus. Next to me was Gil and across from me was Rick and the popular owner of a local bar, Frank. Everyone on the bus was quiet yet restless.

As I peered around the bus at everyone on board I started to realize some things that previously I did not. The physical world today as we read this and live, and the world of the dead. I was riding a bus in the world of the dead. (Rick was a friend of my fathers, a sales broker, that became very wealthy through some good fortune and hard work. He died of cancer at the age of 60 two years ago.) (Gil was an employee of my fathers ~15 years ago. He lived a tough life of bad luck and got drunk every night to make up for it. He died last year at the age of 66.) (Frank owned a traditional neighborhood bar near my father's business. He was well known for being a huge beast of a man and mean temper to go with it. He died of cancer last year around the age of 65.) (Another person on the bus was someone I never knew, but remember well. Everyone labeled him as the neighborhood crazy guy. I heard he was found dead two or three years ago in an alley.)

At that point I stopped looking around and thinking about these people's lives. I yelled to the bus driver that I wanted to get off at the next stop. He was an old happy go lucky black man, dressed as bus drivers did in the 1950's. The driver turned to me and said, "The next stop is a ways off." I stood up and moved over and leaned against the exit door. I said again, "Come on buddy. I need to get off here, I forgot something". He just smiled and ignored me. As I was leaning against the door it suddenly opened up fast. I said screw it and jumped off while the bus was still moving on. I landed on my feet and stared as the bus drove off down the road. I had an instant feeling of relief and then woke up.